Page 21 of Temptress in Disguise
A slow smile formed as he dragged his thumb over his bottom lip. “Be thankful we have an audience.”
The audience were on their feet, clapping and calling for them to continue the celebrations at the inn. Before Naomi could gather her wits, she was jostled out of the church and into the Copper Crown, a cup of strong wine thrust into her hand.
Thieves and cutthroats danced as much as they drank. One man played a fiddle while the landlord made space for others to engage in a jig. Mr Duckett wouldn’t take no for an answer and swung her around and around until she was laughing so hard her abdomen hurt.
Her attention strayed to the far corner of the taproom, where her husband sat at a table with Mr Sloane. The agent talked while Mr Chance remained silent, his formidable gaze fixed on no one but her.
ChapterFive
It was past dawn when Aramis helped his wife into Sloane’s carriage and closed the door. He disliked the plan. He disliked the plan as much as he disliked the strange emotions filling his chest. When exchanging vows, he’d expected to feel some sense of responsibility for the woman who’d kidnapped him at gunpoint, but the need to possess her left him questioning his sanity.
Naomi tugged down the window and looked at him through sad, nymph-like eyes. “Are you sure you’re happy with the plan? I don’t have to stay in the Sloanes’ cottage. I can make other arrangements.”
He’d promised not to lie but wouldn’t tell her he was pining like a puppy. It would pass. Doubtless the hours spent watching her make merry was the cause. Her laugh had the power to hold a man spellbound. Her sweet smile could stun a man into submission. Everything about her was so honest and genuine.
But he’d been fooled once before.
He’d not be fooled again.
“You’ll be safe in Little Chelsea.” Evan Sloane lived in a vast mansion with his wife and infant pirates. “I shall send word once I’ve made an appointment to see your father’s solicitor.” On second thoughts, he might break into the office and throttle the truth from the solicitor’s lips.
She gripped the top of the window and leaned forward, her delicate face framed like a priceless work of art. “Perhaps you might come for supper tomorrow evening. Mr Sloane may have news of Lydia. And we can discuss what we’ll say to the solicitor.”
He wanted to accept the invitation.
Say yes to a quiet dinner.
Yes, to a few hours spent together in bed.
But he needed to keep her at arm’s length. Needed to reinforce the point this was nothing but a marriage of convenience.
“Threats and intimidation will work well enough.” He was confident he could wring a confession from the solicitor in seconds. “I shall see you in a few days. Should you need anything, send word to Fortune’s Den in Aldgate Street.”
Naomi’s weak smile hammered at the steel encasing his heart. “Thank you, Mr Chance. I know marriage is to our mutual benefit, but I appreciate you coming to my aid.”
Hellfire!
How was she able to slip past his defences? Why did he imagine holding her, telling her she never need worry again? For ten long years, no one had come close to rocking his foundations.
“We will speak again soon.” He gripped the window, his little finger grazing her thumb. “It’s been a memorable evening.” One he would never forget.
A strange intimacy flowed between them. At present, it was a trickling brook, but he’d need to strengthen the dam before it became a raging torrent.
Stepping back from the vehicle, he stood alone in the yard of the Copper Crown and watched the carriage trundle away. Knots formed in his stomach when the lady pressed her palm to the window and held his gaze.
In the cold light of day, it was time to acknowledge what he’d done. He’d married a stranger. Aaron would tear him to pieces, try to force him to have the marriage annulled. Fighting a horde of cutthroats was easier than facing his elder brother. The brother he respected and admired.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, he examined his pocket watch.
He would wait at the Copper Crown and arrive in London in time to visit his brother Christian. They could ride to Fortune’s Den together. Having recently married, Christian would not be so quick to judge.
He arrived in Ludgate Hill two hours later.
“I’m here to see my brother.” Aramis barged past Christian’s new butler—Higgins, Buggins or something similar. “I’ll have time for coffee before I leave. Make sure it’s piping hot.”
The ageing servant paled—doubtless a reaction to Aramis’ blunt manner. “I—I’m afraid he is indisposed, sir.”
“Indisposed?” Perhaps Christian was tending to his morning ablutions. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t stop Aramis charging upstairs and lounging on the bed while his brother shaved. But one did not invade a married man’s chamber. “Then I shall wait for him in his study. Have Mrs Chance join me for coffee.”
